


Forced Smile

by PistachioShells (orphan_account)



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Attempted Murder, Blood, Cussing, Dark to Sweet, Depression, Happy Ending, Hope, Mental Health Issues, Murder, Non-Binary Frisk, Skoliosexual Frisk, Suicide Attempt, Swearing, Trust, Underfell
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:20:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23618140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/PistachioShells
Summary: Underfell belongs to the community. Undertale by Toby Fox.WARNINGS: Blood, Murder, Attempted Murder, Attempted Suicide, Implied and Mentioned Mental Illness, Self-Mutilation, Swearing, Possible Innuendos or Referenced Sexual Activity, Skoliosexuality, Non-Binary.Frisk stopped arguing long ago. Their mind was their only safe place, and eventually, they simply couldn’t figure out a way to put up with it anymore. They had to have a happy smile. In front of their parents, their teachers, and their few friends.She never imagined that one day, that smile would become real.NOTE: Ended Prematurely.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	1. Damned

Damned

* * *

Frisk climbed up Mt. Ebott. They felt the wind, cold as their family. The ground was as wet as their tears. Chirps were as loud as gunshots, the clouds as dark as their mind. Blood dripped from their arms, cuts swirling around them like the ropes they once held. Too many people would’ve seen.

It began to rain. Unbeknownst to them, the heavens were crying for them. A pure soul, merely hurt and thrashed. An innocent life would be taken tonight, they believed. Frisk held their breath as the came upon the hole. Of course, they knew the legends. The monsters beneath, that laid hidden by ancient sorcerers who sealed them below. Stories wrote of their slaughter, the murder of innocent and guilty alike. Monsters didn’t care who you were. They just wanted blood. Be it their own, or yours.

They began to inch toward the gaping hole. They couldn’t remember the last time they felt scared; hell, they couldn’t remember the last time they could _feel._

The wind tried to rip through their wet clothes. They remembered everything that people said to them. _“You’re a girl. Your life stays in the kitchen.” “The fuck do you mean, neither? You’re a girl. Guys don’t get scared or have a [redacted]. You’re stupid if you think there’s an in between.” “WHAT DO YOU MEAN, A GIRLFRIEND?! YOU’RE A FUCKING GIRL! I DON’T CARE IF SHE’S TOO BLIND TO SEE THAT SHE’S A GIRL LIKE YOU!”_ Each sentence burned in their throat and eyes.

They took another step. 

> _“FUCKING PUSSY!”_ Step.
> 
> _”UGLY ASS BITCH!”_ Step.
> 
> _“WHINY ASSHOLE! You don’t care what you complain about!”_ Step.

A fake smile, day in and day out. Family, friends, teachers, strangers. They wanted a sweet smile from a _pretty young lady._ No such thing as a girl who cut her hair short, or a non-binary sweetheart, or a skoliosexual. No such thing as a woman without a smile.

Step.

Mother nature called out to her child.

> _The delicate rain soothes the burns,_
> 
> _The earth for the hunger,_
> 
> _The sin for the doubtful,_
> 
> _The love for the scared._
> 
> _Sweetheart, don’t you go,_
> 
> _Sweetheart, come with me,_
> 
> _I’ll make the world again for you._
> 
> _I’ll let you start over,_
> 
> _I’ll give you hope._
> 
> _Sweetheart, don’t you go..._

However, Frisk had made their decision. A leap of, not faith, but hopelessness. Down into the darkness that consumed their mind. The darkness rose, and gladly accepted the reject.


	2. Monsters

Monsters

* * *

Frisk woke up. They groaned, a painful spike seeming to jab into their skull. My, wasn’t fate unkind? They didn’t fall, not even harshly injured. However, Frisk only saw the negativity of their loss, and hated it. 

The earth around them was barren. It appeared as though it was scorched with fire. The top of the soil was blackened and hurt; it had no chance to heal, and had no life left in the area burned the most. However, one or two sprigs came through from it nonetheless. Frisk admired their hardiness and WILL. It powered them through the fiery pits of neglect, something that Frisk never had.

Frisk looked at their wrists once again, and found that they had begun to heal. Some still bled, the deeper cuts did. The others tried to close their gates to the harshness of the world, and cut off the weak blood. Frisk pulled and itched at one of the scabs, which began to bleed again. They didn’t deserve to heal. That’s what the world seemed to tell them.

They got up, not bothering to dust off the blackened earth or wipe away the blood. They stumbled into an open doorway that they didn’t even notice. Was fate pulling them by the hand? Gracious fate, that twisted and turned without a notice. Frisk followed the blind strings without a care. Wherever it decided to take them, there was no doubt that they’d suffer. Mother Nature stepped down behind Frisk, invisible, trying to heal the broken heart that wanted no healing.

A small, semi-burnt flower patch waited for them. They grew full and golden where they could, a treasure trove under the surface, where the love of the world outdid the harshness of the conscious. It was beautiful. The scorched areas, even. What petals were lost they grew past, healing themselves and moving on. They couldn’t recover those pieces, but they didn’t have to let that hold them from growth.

Why Frisk couldn’t see that in themselves, Mother Nature did not know. She created them, and made them worthy of love and beautiful. However, instead of the beautiful flower Mother Nature had grown, they instead only saw the vile fertilizer that She had used to help them develop. They were a flower that refused to grow, a flower without roots.

Frisk bent down to gaze upon the delicate buttercups. They held one of the tops in her fingers, carefully tilting it to see it better. She released it, allowing it to return to the state it was originally in. Noticing this, a flower tilted it’s head up to see who had come. However, it saw nobody there when it had awoken.

Continuing on, Frisk felt the stone walls. Before them were puzzles, littered about here and there. They didn’t care to solve them; if they died, all the better for them. Mother Nature and Fate resolved to help their child.

A goat monster saw the delicate human. She took them by the hand, guiding them, even if they refused to notice. To them, it was merely Fate pulling their hand again. 

And yet, it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anybody wants to know, for this story I’ve been listening to a lot of the band “Glass Animals”. Specifically, for these past two chapters, it’s been “Cocoa Hooves” and “Gooey”, which are ‘teen and up’ type songs (despite not being explicit).


	3. How The Birds Sing

How The Birds Sing

* * *

Frisk woke up in a bed, soft and warm. It wasn’t the best bed, but it was better than Frisk had, despite the fact that it looked far worse. They decided to lay there, and fall back asleep. The temporary release of sleep was granted to the tired soul.

Toriel returned to the room with a slice of apple-cinnamon pie. It was cracked, and not the prettiest. However, the sweet, sweet aroma encircled the air and held Frisk in it’s warm hands. She smiled when Frisk seemed to relax at the scent. Toriel left the pie slice on the nightstand next to Frisk’s bed, looking down at her delicate, shy child. They rested peacefully in the tornado that surrounded their mind. 

She took the blanket, and pulled it over Frisk’s shoulder, where it had slipped down and fallen. Resting her hand of Frisk’s soft face, she sat down on the edge of the bed. Frisk didn’t move. Toriel then lifted her hand, carefully putting it in her own lap. She inhaled the smell of the gooey apple-cinnamon pie, remembering when she had made it for her two actual children... They had loved it, in the time that they were alive. There was a song they’d made for her, when they were young. She had a difficult time remembering it now.

Toriel took in a small breath before trying to whisper it to herself.

> ”Sweet like an apple,
> 
> Soft like a peach,
> 
> And tall like a tree!
> 
> Surface, surface!
> 
> You’re coming with us to the surface!
> 
> Mom, you and me!
> 
> Love never leaves,
> 
> And neither will we,
> 
> Until the whole world sees it!”

She fell silent. She wasn’t even entirely sure that those were the words they spoke; what a mother SHE was, huh?

She turned back to Frisk. Their face was still content. Toriel began to get up, when they noticed that the human had lightly gripped her torn dress. She smiled. Sitting back down, she rubbed Frisk’s back, gazing at their soft, bruised face.


	4. Distant

Distant

* * *

What were dreams to Frisk? Well, they weren’t anything. Merely blips of imagination, allowed to run free from the restraints of reality. However, they always dreaming. Dreaming of a place where people actually called them a “them” instead of “she”. Dreaming of a place where they could be safe. Dreaming of sweet popsicles and falling out of trees, like most young kids did, instead of going 12 years of their life being bashed for who they were. They weren’t going to deny who they were, after already having to fake a smile for years upon years. 

However, this dream was very odd. Two vague, pale figures, one tall and one short, stood before them. A gold glint came from the short one, intimidating as the tall one’s height. They stood in front of Frisk, unmoving. Then, one put out a hand; they couldn’t tell which one. The most odd thing out of this whole, strange, unclear dream?

They actually took their hand.

They led them to a house that was better than the others, the least decrepit and yet the scariest-looking. A stick stuck out of the ground, with a blurry blob that Frisk could only assume was a mailbox. Snow littered the ground, smudged and almost seeming to flow like milk.

However, before Frisk was able to enter, they woke up.

They woke up clutching a tall goat’s dress. Her dress was torn, by what seemed like claws and bugs. However, she smelled like burnt butterscotch and some unidentifiable, dusty scent. It was almost pleasant.

Before she could notice Frisk was awake, they managed to drift back into a gentle sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter’s short, but I’m trying to jump back into the story. It’s pretty difficult after I’ve left it alone! XD
> 
> Thank you for everyone who waited, I really appreciate it! Those who’ve just found this story; welcome! I hope you find this story interesting!


End file.
